Swishy
by EverTheDreamer
Summary: But if she'd gone back in and hugged him like everything was fine, well, he'd never learn. She couldn't have him thinking it was okay. Based on "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." Cause Patti LuPone as Mama Weiner should have been a reoccuring character.


She let out a shallow breath as she sat in her car, Buttons staring from her extravagant case on the seat next to her.

"What?" she demanded, glaring at the cat. Cars had started driving around her, she'd stopped for so long at the stop sign. "Stop _looking_ at me that way. What do you know, huh? What do _you_ know?" She bit back stubborn tears, her little Marc-y boy's hurt expression flashing in her mind.

Buttons meowed loudly, turning in her case and looking back down the street at the house she had pulled away from, as if telling Mama Weiner to go back to her son.

She shook her head bitterly, putting the car in park before picking up the case and moving to put it on the seat behind her. "I told you to stop, Buttons." Another meow. "You… You don't _know_. You don't _understand_." She was holding the case up and looking into Buttons' eyes as she spoke. "You don't _have_ kids. This-He… He just _can't _be. He's _confused_. That's all there is to it. Tomorrow, he'll call and tell me he was wrong and we'll go out to dinner before I home-"

"Meow!"

"Sorry; we," she amended, nodding her mistake to the cat. "Before _we_ go home. And everything will be just like before."

"_If you want to get to know me, it has to be the real me."_

_God_, she'd felt terrible leaving him on that note, without hugging him or anything. And she'd heard his pained breathing as he'd leaned against the door, closing it behind her. Of course she'd heard as she hovered outside, waiting for him to come out and take it back. And when he hadn't--had just sighed painfully-- her own heart had screamed that she go back and comfort her baby boy, hug him and kiss him and tell him it would all be okay. But if she'd gone back in and hugged him like everything was fine, well, he'd never _learn_. She couldn't have him thinking it was _okay_.

No. She'd had to do what she'd done. Like she told Buttons, the next day he would call and tell her that he _was_ confused. And everything would be fine.

Buttons meowed loudly, startling her from the painful memories.

"_What_?" she repeated, tears filling her eyes.

The cat, of course, hadn't _said_ anything. But at the same time, she had.

Buttons had that nagging little voice in the back of her mind talking to her, questioning her.

What if he doesn't call tomorrow?

"He'll call," she argued.

What if he's _not_ confused?

"Of course he is."

What if he really _is_ what you think he is?

"He's _not._ He's just confused."

What if you just shut your baby out of your life _forever_ over something as stupid as his being "_swishy"_?

She dropped Buttons' case back to the seat, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. _That_ she couldn't argue against, the prospect too frightening.

Buttons screeched indignantly, glaring through the mesh at the top of the case.

Her hands were shaking as she dropped them to the steering wheel in front of her, putting the car back in drive and forcing herself to continue driving despite the tears that clouded her vision.

Not paying much attention, she'd made a wrong turn and ended up in a seedy neighborhood. Nervously, she clicked the automatic locks as she glanced around her, wiping the unshed tears from her eyes. "Look," she cooed to Buttons, "there's a nice boy we can ask for directions. Nothing to worry about."

The boy was clean-cut, dressed smartly in something her Marc-y boy would wear. Swishy.

She was about to roll down her window--only an inch or two, you could never be too careful in these neighborhoods-- when several thug-looking boys came out of an alley near the boy and started pushing him. Her eyes went wide and for the briefest of seconds, she saw her Marc-y boy in his place, getting pushed and yelled at--for being "swishy." When she blinked, it wasn't her baby anymore but the hooligans had knocked the boy to the ground and were kicking him.

"Marc!" she whispered, her hands falling to the horn and putting excessive pressure on it so that it screamed.

Shocked, the hooligans disappeared back into the alley they'd crept from, running.

Her phone was already at her ear as she pulled closer to the boy, biting her lower lip.

"911. What is the nature of your emergency?" a monotone voice asked her on the other end of the line.

"I just saw a boy get beat up. He-" she peered out the window at the unmoving boy and, again, saw her baby in his place. "He looks pretty bad."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

She craned around in her seat, searching for street signs, "I-I can't find any signs! I- I don't _know_!"

"Ma'am, please stay calm."

"Stay _calm_?" she repeated, angrily. "This boy could be _dying _and you want me to _stay calm_?! What kind of help are you?" She clicked the phone shut, throwing it back in her purse before unlocking her door and pushing it open to squat next to the boy.

"Are you okay?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair--he looked _so much_ like Marc. "Can you get up?"

The boy groaned in pain, his eyelids fluttering but remaining closed.

"Come on, honey. If you get in my car, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?" Her motherly instincts kicking in, she slid an arm under his head before pulling him into a standing position and helping him into the backseat of her car. She quickly slid back into the driver's seat, locking the doors again before starting to drive again.

She dug in her purse, her eyes still on the road, and searched for her phone. She dialed Marc's home phone number, praying he'd pick up. "Come on, Marc-y. _Pick up_." When his answering machine kicked in, she snapped her phone closed with a growl of frustration and threw it into her purse again.

"It's okay, Buttons," she cooed, her eyes flicking to the reflection of the boy in her backseat. "It's okay." She anxiously patted the steering wheel as she drove, searching for a police officer or a sign pointing her in the direction of the hospital.

She was relieved when she finally found the blue hospital signs. Pulling into a spot near the ER, she grabbed her keys and rushed into the building, pushing people out of the way to talk to the receptionist. "There's a boy! He's in my car-!"

"A car-jacking is really something to take up with the police, ma-am."

"No! He's _hurt! _He was beat up! You have to help him!" she was nearing hysteria, her recent fight with her son making his image flash in place of the boy's constantly.

An hour later, she was waiting restlessly outside the boy's room, Buttons' case on the floor beside her as she wrung her hands in her lap absent-mindedly. Her mind was still on Marc and how easily that could have been _him_ in that boy's place. And how if that _had _happened to him and the last thing she'd said to him was that she had no interest in knowing the real him…

"Ma'am?" a doctor asked, coming out of the boy's room and jolting her out of her stupor.

She jumped, standing up and staring up at the doctor, scared for the life of this unknown boy. "Yes? What? Is- Is he gonna be okay?"

"He's gonna be fine, ma'am," he smiled. "He's asking for you, asking for his 'guardian angel.'"

She let out a sigh of relief as she scooped up Buttons and hurried into the room. She sat down at the chair on the boy's right, replacing the case on the floor by her feet as she scooted forward.

The boy grabbed her hand as he forced his eyes open with difficulty. "Th-Thank you," he whispered. "You saved my life."

Marc flashed in her mind again and she gripped the boy's hand back tightly. "What were you doing in that dangerous neighborhood?" Her voice was scolding, falling back into the motherly role as she fussed over him. She grabbed his water with her free hand, helping him take a sip before putting it back on his night stand. She fixed his blanket, pulling it up.

"I was walking back to my house after a visit with my mother. She kicked me out of her house after I told her I'm gay. I didn't even get the chance to grab my wallet or keys or phone," he whispered, pained as tears filled his eyes.

"She'll-" she bit her bottom lip, fighting back tears again. "She'll come around."

"How do you sound so certain?"

"I-I did the same thing when my son told me," she breathed. "It's not easy to hear. But… I came around. I had to. I love my baby."

"Well, your son is a very lucky boy," he told her, sounding like he was in pain.

"She'll come around," she repeated, a lump forming in her throat as she squeezed the boy's hand encouragingly.

He was almost asleep when he responded, "I hope so."

His grip on her hand lessened and she sniffed back tears, wiping them away before they could slide down her cheeks. She picked up Buttons' case, planting a motherly kiss on the boy's forehead before she silently left the room.

She collapsed in her car, putting Buttons back on the passenger seat before letting out a low breath. She pulled her cell from her purse again, dialing her son's cell phone and bringing her phone to her ear as she drew in a long breath.

"Mom?"

He sounded surprised. And like he'd been crying.

Her heart just broke hearing the pain in his voice. She forced herself to exhale, close to tears herself. "Marc-y, honey?"


End file.
